Death (Oops) Poem by Kim Cresswell

Whether we like it or not,
At some time,
On some day,
We will die,
It's inevitable,
We cannot prevent it,
There is no way of stopping this cycle of life,
And death.
Unless of course,
You are willing to take part,
In a little experiment in which I have planned,
But after all... Science is art.

Don't begin that dribble on Religious beliefs,
And then cry into your handkerchiefs,
When I tell you that you are,
In fact,
Wrong.
So sue me,
But last time I checked,
I was the one with evidence,
And explanation,
So I bet,
That decomposition is actually what'll happen,
Not angels rising up into heaven.

What can I say?
Science and Heaven,
Are a matter of opinion.
Religious or other beliefs,
Are totally up to you.
Whether or not you follow them,
I don't particularly care if im completely honest,
You will die,
At some time,
On some day,
Unpreventable,
Undeniable.

You think me morbid?
Well fine,
I merely look at space and time,
In a different context to what you may know.
God made it?
Well there you go,
Believe what you can and make no foe,
My faith lies with science,
As I think you may know.
Test tubes and knowledge,
Gas cylinders and pulled-up foliage,
A future in college.

What to say and where to go,
I guess we'll never know.
Technology will advance and so will religious plans,
But the inevitable will still churn within the sands of time,
A stopwatch which will chime,
At some time,
On some day,
Do as you do,
Pray.
I wont be there,
I'll be in a Lab still full of flare,
Science is my key.

Biology,
Sociology,
Psychology,
Are all types of science,
In one way or another,
So if I hear one more story about a rapture,
I will personally downsize you into a test tube,
Squash you with an ice-cube,
And bombard you with the science in which you seem to fear,
With everything from your toe to a tear,
For I guarantee that science has played a part,
In your pathetic life so far.

Lets all be honest,
And free ourselves from this confusion forest,
For we are merely,
An insignificant ball of Carbon,
In the creation,
Of the world as we know it.
But can't you see?
Where we are and what we can be,
Is much more interesting and uplifting,
Than dwelling on our inevitable death,
And what we could have been,
Or should have been.

So here we are,
Back at the test tube,
In which holds the ice cube,
Looking down on the possible creation of life.
Anger should not be the feeling,
But joy and healing,
For science can do many a thing,
So I pick the test tube up into my hand,
But oops,
I dropped it,
Life goes on...
For now.